


i fell until i forgot i was falling

by koroshiyas (lucitae)



Category: NU'EST
Genre: M/M, POV Second Person, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-26 16:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucitae/pseuds/koroshiyas
Summary: realization settles the way particles sink to the bottom of a flask. a quick stir causes ripples — chaos.somewhere in between, minhyun comes to an understanding.





	i fell until i forgot i was falling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [landfill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/landfill/gifts).



> happy new year to anyone who is unfortunate enough to stumble across this fic. may the new year treat you well.
> 
> all i can say is that i get inspired every time i visit japan. and the only way to make ry scream is this. unbeta’d. heavily inaccurate characterizations. read at your own risk.
> 
> for my dear kouhai whose sole existence motivates me to create and continue creating. thank you for being a part of my life, my ry of sunshine in this bleak world.

the crisp winter air is swapped for the heavy aroma of coffee as the dulcet tone of the bell rings above. immediately, you are greeted by the clinking of stainless steel forks against ceramic plates and the quiet but animated chatter of individuals that inhabit this café. the large windows combined with the intricate plotting of flora transforms this quaint place into a sanctuary of sorts — sequestered from the harsh life grounded in concrete. sunlight is filtered in at odd angles, setting the ambiance, creating a visage that frees customers from their daily lives.

the barista greets with a wide grin while pointing upstairs. the acknowledgement flows both ways as you nod your head in thanks.

it doesn’t matter how many times you have seen this exact scene unfold before you; it invokes the same emotions as the first. you know you're staring. the breath that leaves you might have decreased in volume over time but your jaw is slacked.

his sleeves are rolled just above the elbows, fitting snugly around his arms. the creature of his nickname is in full view, edges stretching along with the sinews that run underneath as he adjusts his position. his white collared shirt is slightly unbuttoned. just enough for the edge of the inked pattern to be glimpsed at. and just below the edge, you know, is where you had marked him last night.

and with his hands he breathes life into clay. it takes shape as it whirs in circles. the client whose hands he has been using as a medium to guide the project blushes as she takes a peek at him through her bangs. you would probably be the same if you were in that position.

his hair is slicked back but a stray strand falls into his eyes. you itch to tuck it away but you stay put, leaning against a wall at the far corner of the workshop. something curls at the base of the heart. perhaps pride that someone else finally sees him in your light. perhaps envy and a tinge of possessiveness that wants to keep him to yourself.

he lifts his head, finally catching sight of you. your heart does a skip when you notice how the smile grows notches brighter. the trained cordial smile gone in seconds.

( something flares inside you again. you shove it aside to match him with a smile of your own. )

he quickly wraps up the last of the session. promising to fire it while the client waits downstairs with a cup of coffee. other tidbits of information relayed as he sends her away with a deep bow.

someone else will take care of it now as it falls into routine. his hours are over: judging from the way he rolls down his sleeves and retrieves his jacket.

he walks towards you.

you meet him half way, coat draped over your arm, mirroring him.

“you didn’t have to come,” he says. but his smile is bright and his eyes dance with glee.

“i know,” you reply, nonchalant. but seeing that expression alone was worth the wait. “but it’s new year's eve,” you say instead.

his eyes crinkle, expression shy. your chest blossoms as it is reminded once more of _your_ favorite kang dongho.

* * *

both of you greet the barista on your way out. the barista smiles knowingly ( almost a bit too smugly, making dongho threaten him with a friendly smack of the arm ). you merely smile in return as you step out of the cozy coffee shop and back into the embrace of winter.

the silence that blankets the both of you is a comfortable one. much like the freshly fallen snow that piles on lightly in cities up north.

you take a glance at him. he is handsome tonight. the ring of black fur on his collar makes his look sharp as it contrasts against the leather. the color blends with his hair, drawing attention to his features. soft pink lips and supple cheeks that are open invitations for a gentle kiss. you wonder why it has taken you so long to _see_.

it has taken you far too long for far too many things.

and even now it takes a while for you to bring it up. the thing that sits at the bottom of your coat pocket — a weight. the whim that had you sliding it there has now turned into doubts and _what if_ s. you hate _what if_ s.

you open your mouth. white smoke filters out and rises in the evening sky like a silent prayer.

“i’ve been thinking,” you say, finally.

dongho turns his attention towards you, no longer watching the lights strung high.

“about?”

there are too many places to begin with. so maybe let’s start at the beginning.

“how many years have we been together?”

“a little over two.”

right. _right_.

time has blurred. melded together. memories woven into a continuous strand so that it feels longer than it has been.

“and how many years since you turned your back on your dreams and followed me to a foreign country?” you ask as you stop in your track.

he freezes in his. there’s alarm that mars his expression as he stutters out a “i didn’t give up on my dream—”

you don’t give him time to finish. “five, dongho,” you say, “it has been at least five years since i told you i wanted to come study and live here.” five since he left his home behind and learned a whole new language just to accompany you to a foreign country. five since he struggled with the dialect of osaka compared to what he had learned back home. five since he toiled away in search for stable income to split housing costs. five since he hid all his compositions to ease your guilt. and five years of you occasionally catching him dead in the night trying to work on his dream you ended with a casual sentence about pursuing yours.

you search his eyes and continue. the thoughts that have left you tossing and turning in the middle of the night all rising to the surface. ( the same thoughts that can only be calmed when you turn to face him, watching the peaceful expression as he slumbers. )

“sometimes i think you still believe that we are together out of guilt on my part. that this was somehow my only way to repay you,” you confess. there’s some part of you shaking. you probably look foolish and exceptionally vulnerable but he’s known you since your teens. he’s seen the worst of you. so you forge on. “you don’t get it,” you say as he opens his mouth to retort and shake your head for extra emphasis. “and it doesn’t help that sometimes i wonder if i’m taking you for granted.”

“i don’t think that i am. but what if it seems that way? what if you feel that way?”

the words don’t stop. can’t stop. like carbonated beverage upon opening — insecurities keep bubbling out.

“i wish there was a more definite start to us.” you laugh. it sounds bitter. a bit harsh. it grates and you know it. some part of you lost in reminiscence; the other part still painfully aware of the present, of the expression on his face. “i mean,” you revise, “i didn’t even get to officially hand over the keys because we have split the rent since the day we moved here.”

not that you regret it. but significance lies in those moments ( or so moving pictures have engrained such notions into your head ).

you take a step forward, closing the distance. up close his eyes are beautiful. ( they always are. ) usually you would describe it as amber but the light from the lamp post makes it look like honey — the viscosity threatening you to prison you there for the rest of eternity.

you wouldn’t mind.  
you doubt he understands.

“our friendship just gradually transformed into romance.” this is the part where you reach for his hand. “and has been suspended in that equilibrium, that back and forth, ever since.” this is the part where you take off a glove and reach for the item lost somewhere in this conversation. “i’m not complaining. just wondering how can i convey what i wish to express in a way you’ll understand.” 

so you paint it for him.

you sit the box in the palm of dongho’s hand. it’s a simple one. devoid of any patterns. just leather bound with gold colored hinges.

“this was the only thing i could come up with,” you find yourself saying, almost sheepish due to the contents of the box. it’s a cheap shot and you know it. but some things need to be aired even if you would have preferred any other method of delivery.

“i probably should have given this to you on one of our usual dates where we either dine in or eat out. if we stay home then i suppose in the middle of a rerun of a movie. and if at a restaurant then with your favorite course: bread,” you joke, to ease the tension. “or maybe i should have written a song, recorded all my feelings, and gifted it along with this,” you say as you seal the distance, trying to gauge his reaction towards the pair of simple bands held in between the plush felt. “or maybe when you are all tied up and i put it under a tree,” you tease, unable to fight the urge because he makes it _too easy_. you lightly tap his crotch. a laugh elicits as he colors.

“it’s not an engagement ring,” you end up saying, brushing it off quickly, “you don’t have to feel pressured.”

he meets your gaze.

“merely a promise that right now, in this strand of the universe, i want to stay by your side for the rest of my life.”

“you should have told me. now i feel like a fool for rehearsing _i do_ in my head,” dongho complains. but it is light, easy. you don’t deserve him and yet somehow...

you throw your head back and laugh. it is hearty. it’s one of pure joy. because somehow the universe has allowed you this opportunity. because somehow the universe has allowed you to love him. because somehow the universe has allowed him to love you in return.

never have you been more grateful.

your lips curl, instinctively. unable to pass up this opportunity as you say: “it won’t be an engagement ring until i can bridal carry you.”

there’s a joke in here somewhere that gets thrown off by dongho’s absolutely sincere “thank you.” it’s barely audible. but this street behind the bustling train hub of umeda is somehow far removed enough for you to catch it.

you think it is relief you hear at the promise. something inside you wells.

“just so you know:” dongho says after he slips on the band. “i didn’t give up my dream.” he catches yours. “i enjoy this part time job. on one hand it financially supports my full time job. but more importantly i enjoy the smiles and the feeling of accomplishment after every finished product and satisfied customer.” he flashes you a smile. it’s disarming. almost enough to distract you from the way cold metal slides over skin and finds home at the base of your fourth finger.

“i can chase my dream anytime minhyun-ah.” his tone is so gentle, so affectionate. you have to blink twice to retain what is about to spill over. “i’m still chasing it now,” he says, eyes never leaving yours. his voice lowers as he says: “but there’s only one of you.”

your ears burn. almost as much as the way your face does. but habits die hard so you quip: “are you saying i’m your dream?”

the same curl of lips, the same expression that teeters upon a sneer settles over your face as you ask.

it is met with the same open honesty once more that renders you speechless as you spiral deeper.

“maybe i am.”

**Author's Note:**

> quote taken from [this](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/840250-i-was-falling-falling-through-time-and-space-and-stars).
> 
> the cafe this was based on is [café ゆう](https://yukobo.co.jp/cafeyu/) at umeda.
> 
> i imagine dongho's jacket to look like [this](https://twitter.com/dongho_shadow/status/1079408489095557121).
> 
> honestly the title, summary, and fic content are only loosely related and all around me trying to be pretentious.
> 
> dongho's "dream" that minhyun thought he ended is his "full time job". minhyun knows he's still composing and working on songs — one of the first things he made sure dongho picked up again.


End file.
